CAPTIVATING THE COLLEGE GIRL – Part One

She is almost as surprised by the question as you are for asking it. You aren’t drunk but perfectly sober and oddly relaxed. “No,” she says, “Have you?”

“Yes.” This is the first time you have felt confident around a girl. Having only fooled around with a few women – and only going all the way with one – you are surprised by how easy it all feels.

“Are you a lesbian,” she asks with an innocence that makes you like her even more.

“No. I like who I like.”

There is a question she wants to ask but she hesitates. Instead, she blurts out, “I’m straight.”

“I know.” Everyone knew this. “But you’re also pretty.”

“Thanks,” she says, and her hand shakes a little as she stirs her tea.

************

After the Astronomy lecture this morning, you casually asked her to tea. She said yes, which initially surprised you. Maybe you should just ask girls out more often. Maybe girls say yes more than no.

She had no idea that between watching slides of stars and taking the occasional note, you watched her in class. She’s not your type, but she caught your eye when she wore a baby blue beaded vintage cardigan and a black pencil skirt. Her hair was in a tight shiny bun like a librarian, yet she had a ring on every finger. This incongruence made you curious about her. An uptight girl with the hands of a gypsy. You wondered if she expressed her passion only in the bedroom and only in the dark.

It made you want to kiss her just to see if you could.

***********

The cafe is dark even though the sky is still bright outside. There is a gap in the conversation but it doesn’t bother you. You drink your tea and study her with a slight smile. Her nervousness is making the whole afternoon fun for you. The more she doesn’t know what to say, the more you do.

“Can I be direct with you,” you ask and she nods. “I am attracted to you.”

“You are,” she says with her eyes on her teacup. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know that you are beautiful, smart and kind. You have excellent taste and a great sense of style. That blue cardigan you wore last week was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”

“Well, I stole that from my roommate. She’s the one with taste.”

Another stunning girl who is insecure and puts herself down without even realizing it. “Sweet girl, every time I’ve seen you, I’ve thought to myself, ‘No way. She’s prettier than the last time. But the last time I saw her she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. How did she manage to outdo herself again?”

She is laughing and looks up at you for the first time. “You make me feel pretty. But I’m not….” She lets the words trail off.

“Like me,” you ask.

“I’m not a lesbian,” she says, her words barely audible as if lesbian were a bad word.

“I’m not either,” you say with a wink. “Let’s get out of here. I want to show you something.”

You see her weighing the options in her mind: the librarian side of her and the gypsy duking out the pros and the cons of spontaneous fun. “Sure, why not? But only if we get a drink first,” she says. “I’m way too sober.”

“To the bar then,” and you signal for the check.

*****************

After sharing a few drinks and many stories, the two of you walk out of the bar and onto Hudson Street in the West Village. She has her armed looped through yours now. If you were both straight this would be just another gesture of friendship. But the tingling of her touch against your skin tells you she is more than just a friend, and she is beginning to realize it.

“Have you ever had a one night stand,” you ask her.

She gives you a look.

“Two years ago, I had my first one night stand,” you say. “I was nineteen and I traveled with some friends to Spain. One afternoon, my friends were at a museum and I wasn’t feeling it, so I decided to just go explore Barcelona on my own. I met a really sexy Spanish man in a cafe. I liked him instantly. The connection was there. We talked over cafe con leche for hours, then we went to dinner. Over wine and paella, he asked me – with the hottest accent and this deep, sexy voice – ‘Have you ever met someone for the first time, had coffee, then had dinner, then went home and made love all night long?’ My stomach flip-flopped. Nothing seemed more romantic.”

“And then you went home with him?”

“Something like that. And I never saw him after.”

She shakes her head and a dark strand of hair falls loose and into her eyes. “For a second, there, I thought you were making a pass at me.”

The sun is setting and her skin glows with the shifting light. “For a second, I was.”

“And you aren’t anymore,” she asks with a flirtatious tone. You knew she was the right girl.

“No.” You smile and pick up her hand and kiss it, lingering on each long finger. “I don’t flirt with straight girls – well, not for long.”

“You are trouble,” she says.

“Am I?” You kiss her wrist and she pulls her hand away. Suddenly she is aware of the street and of people seeing you together. The librarian has returned.

“You told me you wanted to show me something.”

“I do.”

*************

On top of your building, you can see all of downtown New York. You made it home right before the sun set and the buildings came alive with lights. The city unfolds before the two of you as day becomes night and she turns to you with radiant eyes. “A picture could never capture this.”

The light illuminates the pink fullness of her lips and there is a pause. She is quiet for a beat too long and you know by saying nothing, she has said yes. As the breeze picks up twelve floors above Manhattan, you lean into her and kiss her gently, softly, ever-so-slowly and she immediately kisses you back. Your arms encircle her, as she presses into you, opening her mouth just slightly, ready to go deeper.

Your tongue lightly darts into her mouth and her mouth widens. Hesitantly, her tongue begins to explore your teeth and your lips. Your hands move down her back, massaging her spine and bringing her even closer into you. Breaking away from the kiss, you lick her neck from the shoulder to her ear and gently nibble on her earlobe.

“Oh, really,” she asks, now into the game. “And how does a bi-girl kiss?”

“Like this,” you say, and you kiss her again. Her arms are all over you now, as if she’s been finally given permission to explore and be free. Both hands find your breasts through your clothes and she touches them with the fascination of something new and foreign. As you kiss, your hands find her small breasts and you both massage and touch each other as the throbbing between your legs grows with intensity. Her breathing is uneven and quick and you know she is yours.

“Let’s go downstairs,” you say. Holding her hand, you lead her back inside.

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